


Steve Rogers Loves Dogs

by Stripes_040527



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cats, Dogs, Foster dogs, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Up to Infinity War in the timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 07:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18655753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stripes_040527/pseuds/Stripes_040527
Summary: Steve had always loved dogs.It was just one of those things, those facts that everyone knows.The sky is blue, February was 28 days (‘cept on leap years) and Steve Rogers loves dogs.He fought a war, flew into the ice, and woke on the other side of the century.A lot had changed, but one thing remained: Steve Rogers loves dogs.Featuring a puppy named James, a cat named Meredith, and several Avengers





	Steve Rogers Loves Dogs

Steve had always loved dogs.  
It was just one of those things, those facts that everyone knows.  
The sky is blue, February was 28 days (‘cept on leap years) and Steve Rogers loves dogs. 

Since he was a kid, he’d loved them.  
When he was 10, there was a big German shepherd down the road that knocked him over a lot but Steve, frail as he was, adored it.  
“It doesn’t treat me different, Bucky,” he’d told his best friend after. “Stop fussing over it, I’m fine.”  
Bucky has raised his eyebrow, something Steve hadn’t quite mastered yet (much to his chagrin), and told Steve to shut up and sit still.  
“You stop squirming or I’ll make you eat this,” Bucky warned him, holding up the bandage menacingly.  
Steve sighed and held his arm out, letting Bucky wrap up the cuts. 

It was something no-one understood.  
No matter how frail or sickly Steve was, dogs would always greet him with a lick and a tail wag.  
They never treated him like he was made of glass or like he would blow away in a strong wind.  
They never pitied him.  
Hazel Grace picked on him, on account of his chicken legs, but she also had the best dog in the neighbourhood, so Steve would walk 15 minutes out of his way on the way home from school just to say hi to the little terrier and let him slobber on his hand. 

When he was injected with the serum, one of his first thoughts (after Erskine had been buried and he had a moment to himself, of course) was that maybe that German shepherd wouldn’t knock him over anymore.  
Maybe he could pet bigger dogs without worrying about them getting too excited and hurting him.

There were dogs on the front line, a thought that both comforted and horrified Steve.  
A few months were spent with Bear, who was a dog, unlike the mythical bear that Bucky kept telling anyone who would listen about.  
The bear (named Wojtek, if Bucky was to be believed, which Steve didn’t think he was) might be well and good for the Polish soldiers who adopted him, but Steve preferred Bear, who curled up next to him when we was taking watch, and sat still enough for him to draw when he was bored.

He promised himself when the war was over he was going to get a dog.  
White picket fence, spouse, a kid or two, and a couple dogs.  
Then he flew into the ice and that thought left his head to be replaced by a feeling of being unfulfilled, and the next thing he knew it was the new millennia. 

_The world has changed, the war hasn’t, and Steve Rogers still loves dogs._

He’d woken up in a whole new city, but some of the streets looked familiar enough to let him find his way, and he walked the path from his old school to Hazel Grace’s house.  
Instead of a terrier waiting to say hello, there was a McDonalds.  
Then SHIELD had picked him up and took him to base.

He ran around the running track at SHIELD, trying not to be bitter about being on house arrest.  
They’d given him an apartment on base; fully furnished and complete with a highlighted note of “no pets allowed”.  
No pets except him, at least.  
A year of training, of hiding, of trying to convince them to let him on active duty.  
A year of being bored and, if he was honest with himself, lonely. 

Then Loki stole the Tesseract and the world descended into further chaos. 

They fought.  
They won.  
At a cost.

New York was in pieces, bodies strewn everywhere.  
A missile was incoming and so were the Chitauri.

They stopped the invasion, closed the portal, went for shawarma, and then Steve found a puppy, abandoned in the rubble.  
He named him James and took him home. 

_Tony Stark is Iron Man, Thor controls lightning and thunder, and Steve Rogers still loves dogs._

He moved out of the SHIELD apartment and into his own place as soon as he could.  
James, a black lab with giant paws and floppy ears, took to the new place like a fish to water.  
Steve had a running partner and a friend again, someone to go home to. 

He volunteered to help clear rubble, telling everyone to call him Steve and working to undo some of the damage he felt responsible for.  
He helped out at the local shelter too, offering whatever they needed and donating a large sum of money from his (frankly unnecessary) SHIELD pay.  
Displaced pets filled the kennels quickly.  
Most were anxious.  
Some were aggressive.  
All were in need of help.

Steve bought three books about dog training, a pack of highlighters, sticky notes, and a notebook.

Buster was the first.  
An angry bulldog who hated people and was considered dangerous, he faced being put down.  
Steve took one look at him and signed up to foster him.  
He left the shelter with a box of toys, a dog on a lead, and several warnings to be careful.  
It took one month for Buster to stop trying to bite him, three for him to trust him.  
The bites didn’t hurt, not really, and any that broke the skin healed quickly.  
Steve was big and intimidating, but soft and kind.  
Above all, he was patient.  
In six months Buster was ready to be re-homed. 

Shortly after he took Buster in, Penelope came home too.  
She was tiny, shaking and nervous, and she cowered away from anyone who came near her.  
She lost weight and was getting sick when Steve put his foot down and took her home with him.  
It took weeks to calm her down.  
She liked James and Buster well enough, but when Steve was around she’d shiver and whimper.  
He sat on the floor, as far away as he could from her, and talked.  
He told her stories, in a low, soothing voice.  
Day by day, she inched closer.  
Eventually she was sat next to him.  
Eventually she let him touch her.  
Eventually she was ready for a new family. 

A puppy landed in his lap by accident, one of the ladies who lived downstairs had given her to him.  
She was a baby, starving, barely as big as his palm.  
“I found her,” the lady, Vicki, had told him. “I know you’re good with dogs, and I didn’t know what else to do.”  
Steve has nodded, thanked her, and taken the puppy inside.  
He named her Sarah and hand fed her until she was old enough to be adopted.  
Then he’d found a family and sent her on her way.  
They still texted updates and photos every so often. 

He had Daisy for eleven days before her family found her.  
In the chaos of of the New York attack, she had gotten out and ended up in the middle of the city.  
“The phone number on her collar; that phone was smashed when we were trying to get outta town. Took us a while to get it together enough to call,” the woman told him when they arrived to pick her up. “She’s been with us for eight years, and you can bet we’re not letting her go.”  
Steve grinned, patting the golden retriever one last time.  
“Well, if you ever need a dog-sitter, you know where to come. She’s an angel.”  
They put her lead on, and left, the two young sons grabbing at their mom’s shirt.  
“Mom, that was Captain America,” one of them whispered, tugging on her shirt hem. “Mom! Captain America rescued Daisy.”  
Steve laughed to himself as he watched them go.  
It wasn’t an unusual reaction.

A two year old Irish wolfhound cross something came into the shelter, called Maverick, and Steve fell in love.  
He was aggressive, had never been socialised, and hated people and humans alike.  
He was also massive.  
No one but Steve could get near him, everyone either getting scared by the 200 pound dog or getting attacked.  
Steve was the only one who didn’t get immediately attacked, but Maverick eyed him warily and didn’t back down.  
He couldn’t take him home to his four fosters and James, so he sat with him at the shelter.  
It took at least three months to get anything close to trust, but with a lot of time and patience, Steve had earned something like it.  
Then he set about socialising him.  
James, who had become somewhat of a mascot for the shelter, helped.  
He was fiercely loyal and very well trained for a dog barely a year old, the poster dog for rescues, and Steve introduced him to Maverick slowly.  
It took hours and hours, but it was worth it.  
Maverick would never be part of a two-dog family, but he didn’t bark or bite anymore.

To his credit, James was never jealous or bratty.  
He loved Steve and he loved every other dog that was brought into their home.  
Even the cat grew on him eventually. 

The cat was a surprise, to say the least.  
While it was usual to see Steve walking through the park with four or more dogs, leads tangled as they climbed all over each other, cats were not his forte.  
“They can smell weakness,” he told a coworker at the shelter once. “And they use it against you. They’re evil.”  
However, Meredith had arrived spitting mad and ready to claw anyone who came close, so they’d sent in Steve.  
Her fur was matted and she was missing an eye, and she took an instant liking to Steve.  
No-one could really understand it, seeing as he was the one to wash and shave her, but she made it her primary mission to climb all over him as often as she could.  
“I told you,” Steve snapped, gagging as Meredith stuck her tail in his mouth. “Cats are evil. And Meredith is the devil.”  
For all her love for Steve, she wasn’t having luck getting adopted.  
There were several factors: her age, her missing eye, and her general demeanour.  
Eventually Steve gave up, telling her “get in the carrier, I guess we’re going home”.  
“Hot date,” one of the shelter workers said with a smirk. “She’ll keep you on your toes.”  
Steve gave him the finger and walked out, ignoring everyone as they laughed.

They couldn’t all be helped, be re-homed.  
But he tried the best he could and counted the wins with dog photos on his fridge.

_New York is rubble, cats aren’t as evil as previously thought, and Steve Rogers still loves dogs._

Iron Man delivered a public challenge to the Mandarin.  
Steve sat on the edge of the couch, three dogs lying across his lap and feet, and two more dozing in the corner.

Iron Man’s home in Malibu was bombed.  
Steve tried not to cry as he watched the house collapse into the ocean, as reports started coming of Tony Stark's death, James’s paw on his shoulder and nose pushing against his cheek.

He flew to Malibu, trying to get to Pepper, to offer any help or sanctuary he could.  
He didn't make it in time.  
So he headed back to New York, liaised with SHIELD, and set about finding Tony and Pepper.  
Stark Tower wasn’t exactly dog friendly, but James came with him some days, settling at his feet and napping while Steve spoke to Jarvis, to Fury, to anyone who would listen.

Then Tony came home.  
Steve was waiting in the parking garage for the car, holding his arms out as Tony climbed out of the car.  
Begrudgingly, Tony let Steve fold him into a hug.  
“You’re family. You don’t have to deal with this alone,” Steve told him. “I’m always around.”  
Tony stuttered out thanks, promised Steve a new suit for his troubles, then leant down.  
“Hey buddy,” he said to James, letting the dog sniff at him and lick his hand. “Do you need a suit too? Wonder Dog, Captain’s sidekick?”  
Steve laughed, reaching to hug Pepper too.  
“Hey Captain,” she said softly.  
“Welcome back, Pep.”  
“Good to be back.”  
She tried to smile, but it was worn and faded quickly.  
James wandered over and nudged at her knee.  
“He wants attention,” Steve explained as Pepper crouched.  
“Well hello puppy,” she said, giggling in surprise when James licked her cheek.  
Steve called James back, then left Tony and Pepper to settle in and rebuild.  
“Bring him back soon,” Pepper told him, waving at James.  
“Will do,” he called as they stepped into the lift.

_Tony Stark attracts danger like no-one else, the Avengers were family, and Steve Rogers still loves dogs._

When Steve climbed in through his window to find Fury on his arm chair, nursing a gun shot wound and claiming a conspiracy, his only thought was how grateful he was that James was not there.  
He’d left James and Meredith with Vicky, the same neighbour who brought him the puppy, promising he’d get them when he was back from his “work trip”.  
When everything then went to shit, Natasha called a friend of a friend (or so she said) and James the labrador was stashed away in a private dog hotel, funds being funnelled between eight different countries (or so she said).  
Not that she cared, she just knew Steve did (or so she said).  
Vicky outright adopted Meredith, saying they understood each other on a spiritual level.  
Steve couldn’t bring himself to get in the middle of them, and gave Meredith to the only other human she let touch her.

They’d landed on Sam’s doorstep, and the first thing he’d asked once they were inside was if James was okay.  
Then he’d proceeded to steal specialised military equipment and take on an organisation that Steve had died to defeat.  
“I’m only doing this because your dumb ass won’t survive otherwise. Can’t have James missing his dad too much,” he’d said, strapping the wings to his back. “He’s a good boy.”

_Sam Wilson is loyal as hell, Natasha Romanov is surprising, and Steve Rogers still loves dogs._

They fought.  
They won.  
At a cost.

Bucky was alive and on the run, and Steve’s head was spinning.  
A few weeks in hospital left him time to think and time to plan.

When he was discharged he couldn’t go home, so he packed a bag and took off.  
After collecting James from Natasha and promising him he’d never leave him again, that is.  
“You can leave him with me any time,” Natasha (Nat, she said) told him when they’d reunited. “Any. Time.”  
“I wouldn’t do that to you unless I absolutely had to,” Steve said, playing it off like a joke.  
But Nat smiled, that stupid knowing smile, and tilted her head.  
She saw right through him.  
He’d never part with James again.

_Hydra never died, Bucky has a metal arm, and Steve Rogers still loves dogs._

He still looked after them, whenever he could.  
He had two foster dogs and James when he got the call about a Hydra base.  
Reluctantly he agreed, promising the teenager down the hall twenty bucks if he could make sure they were fed for the week, and a further thirty if he walked them every day.

One base turned to two turned to six turned to eighteen (somehow) and suddenly Steve was home barely once a week, the foster dogs were re-homed, and James was living with Sam.  
Sam thought the arrangement was the best thing Steve had ever done for him.  
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Steve asked when he dropped the dog off. “I can figure something else out if you want.”  
“Cap, I would die for this dog. I would murder anyone who tried to touch him.”  
“It’s a lot to ask, is all.”  
“Steven, you give me his food right now or I will fight you for it.”  
Steve laughed and handed the box of supplies over, promising to be back soon.  
“I’ll keep looking for Barnes,” Sam said, hugging Steve tight. “Besides, it’s only right the pup meets his namesake. Although, he’s much cuter than the original. And nicer. And better behaved.”  
“Alright, enough,” Steve said with a laugh, stepping back. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  
“Take your time.”  
Steve waved goodbye to James and sighed, before getting into the car Tony sent and heading out for the next mission.

They piled into the quinjet after a half-successful mission, Loki’s sceptre in hand but Clint injured.  
Steve stepped over to Nat, who was piloting the quinjet.  
He opened his mouth to ask her a question but closed it when he caught sight of the little plush labrador on the dash.  
“That’s Saint James,” Nat told him with a smile.  
“Saint James is the patron saint of Spain,” Tony said, wincing as he stretched out his arm.  
“Yeah, but this James is the patron saint of the Avengers.”  
“Jesus, has everyone fallen in love with this dog?”  
“Don’t pretend like you haven’t too, Stark.”  
“What dog is this?” Thor asked, walking over.  
“Steve’s got a puppy named James,” Tony told him.  
Thor’s entire face lit up like Christmas.  
“You can meet him when we get back,” Steve said, grinning at him.  
“I would like that very much!”

Thor, on meeting James, immediately started a lengthy discussion about their work as Avengers and why he loved Earth.  
James listened intently, barking occasionally.

“James is happy,” Thor said to Steve later. “He understands you are busy saving the world. He misses you when you are gone, but he understands.”  
“Thanks, Thor,” Steve mumbled, blinking back tears.

_Thor has the power of All-Speak, Sam is a reliable dog-sitter, and Steve Rogers still loves dogs._

They disappeared to Sokovia next, Steve calling Sam from the quinjet.  
Sam promised to every single member of the team individually that he would guard James with his life. Even Vision had a vested interest in the animal, which struck everyone as strange considering he’d never met him, until Thor reminded them of the hammer debacle.

They fought.  
They won.  
At a cost.

When Sokovia was past the point of reasonable return, Steve surveyed the landscape and thought of all the dogs he’d loved in his lifetime.  
Sam, he thought, was a good surrogate father for his favourite, the big black labrador named James.

Somehow, they survived, all running home to lick their respective wounds, Steve counting down the minutes till he saw James again.

_Vision was remarkably human for a robot, Sokovia was in ashes, and Steve Rogers still loves dogs._

The Sokovian Accords, a funeral and a bombing later, and they were in an airport.  
The van pulled up, opening to reveal Clint and an unknown man.  
Scott introduced himself and Steve looked over the group, trying to figure out the game plan.  
Then there was a yip.  
“Sam! You didn’t!” Steve yelled, eyes wide as he threw his arms up in the air.  
“Where else could I put him?”  
“I’m sorry, what’s the problem with the dog?” Scott asked, glancing between the two of them and James, who had planted himself at Steve’s feet.  
“He shouldn’t be here, is the problem,” Steve snapped, eyes on Sam.  
“I asked my neighbour to look after him while we were gone, and then everything kinda fell apart and it looked like we were going to be on the run for a while so I thought you might like your fluffy partner in crime for the ride.”  
“Sam, what the fuck?”  
“Oh my god, Captain America swears,” Scott stage-whispered, and Bucky shook his head.  
“He’s here now,” Bucky said, tone signalling finality.  
Then he leant down and patted James cautiously.  
“James, meet your namesake. Bucky, meet your god-son,” Sam said flippantly. “Now come on, we have to stash him somewhere while we get this sorted.”  
“In the vents?” Clint asked, aiming for innocent and missing by a mile.  
“No, Barton.”  
“Are any of us going to survive this?”  
“I’m hoping to,” Scott said. “Not counting on it though, my luck is remarkably close to running out.”  
They stashed James, fought hard, and ultimately lost.  
Steve swore the entire trip from the airport to Siberia, Bucky watching him curiously as he swore to every god he could think of that if James wasn’t safe, Sam Wilson would die a painful, ironic death.

James was arrested along with the rest of Team Captain and, after a stupid joke from Tony about Wonder Dog, put into a special cell with a power suppressing collar.  
When Steve broke into the Raft, he took great joy in crushing the collar in his bare hands after removing it gently from James’s neck.

_The Avengers are broken, Tony Stark hates him, and Steve Rogers still loves dogs._

Life was rough for a while.  
T’Challa and James did not get along, but he agreed nonetheless to house him in Wakanda.  
Shuri read through stolen files and declared that James was to be renamed Wonder Dog, making him a little jacket and putting a bed in her lab so he could keep her company.

Steve visited, as often as he could, but getting to a mostly-hidden country when he was often pulled to Europe and America was a little hard.

He’d barely had a chance to kiss James’s head before the Children of Thanos touched down.

Steve watched his best friends crumble to dust.  
Then he stumbled back to the palace and saw James, tail wagging and tongue lolling as he ran to meet him.  
“Hey bud,” he said softly, sitting on the ground.  
James lay next to him, head on his thigh.  
Together they watched the sun set in silence, Steve softly patting James’s head.

It was an incontrovertible fact.  
The world was chaos, almost everyone he cared about was dead, and Steve Rogers still loves dogs.


End file.
